


Lessons

by Maxamillion



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Marvel Cinematic Universe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4898491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxamillion/pseuds/Maxamillion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A psychologist helps Vision learn about human behavior and emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons

“Dr. Seabury?”

Melissa looked up at the figure addressing her. The Vision hovered by the edge of the pool, looking down at her with those strange, inhuman eyes. She resisted the impulse to shy away, to dive deep again in retreat. Water dripped into her eyes and she self-consciously swept streaming strands of hair back from her face.

“Am I needed up top?”

In recent days she had taken to coming here to a sub-basement exercise pool at odd hours. She had not been required for the last few security meetings as the current threat level was low. And she felt like such an outsider. Everyone here was so militant—gun-toting hardasses who always assumed the worst—which she objectively understood made them assets to SHIELD and international security; but she was a pacifist at heart and empathetic, perhaps to a fault. At times she wondered why she had been recruited. Admittedly she was an expert in human behavior, but she was no forensics expert.

“No, Doctor,” he replied. “I came on a personal errand.”

“Melissa,” she corrected him. He cocked his head slightly. “Just Melissa. You don’t have to call me Doctor.”

He nodded in assent.

“Personal errand?” The wording was peculiar, but then everything about The Vision was peculiar.

“Indeed,” he stated. “I seek to better understand certain aspects of humanity. I possess vast data upon everything in the known world, and yet many philosophical and abstract concepts escape my full comprehension. Perhaps you, with your understanding of humanity combined with your teaching experience, may be able to assist me.”

Melissa peered up at him for some time, considering the prospect. She supposed it made sense, and she missed teaching at Harvard. At the moment this was merely a contract position, and she was on sabbatical. With how she currently felt about her environment and her colleagues at SHIELD, she was fairly sure she would be returning to her cozy Cambridge existence by next year.

“Do you wish to become more human?” she asked.

“That is patently impossible,” he asserted.

“Indeed,” she agreed, observing his perfectly sculpted form floating above the pool. “Would you mind not hovering over me like that? It’s terribly disconcerting.”

He slowly descended into the water until he was eye-to-eye with her. She suddenly felt more exposed and self-conscious.

“You’re still hovering,” she noted. His limbs did not move in the deep water.

“The act of swimming requires certain kinesthetic awareness that I have yet to experience.”

She reflected on his words. “You don’t know how to swim.”

“Correct.”

She smiled, suddenly understanding so much. He was like a child in some ways. Basic things that a human would have gradually learned since birth would be lost on him. No wonder he sought help.

“Well, I’m no swim instructor, but if you would like I can try. I can’t have a serious discussion with you floating around me in that otherworldly way of yours.”

“I would appreciate that,” he responded. “My physical prowess, intelligence, and lack of fear should make me an apt pupil.” Realizing there was nothing narcissistic or ironic in that statement she laughed and agreed.

An apt pupil he was. And with only the occasional admonishment from her for “cheating” by unconsciously hovering, he very soon became proficient in the basics. They rested now at the side of the pool.

“So what is it I can explain about human behavior?”

“Quite a few things. For instance, I am struggling with the concept of aesthetics. Beauty. What is it? How can one recognize what is beautiful as opposed to the ugly or mundane? It is a very subjective and abstract concept.”

“It is difficult to explain,” she admitted. “Perhaps more of a question for a philosopher than a psychologist, but I guess I’ll try.”

“What do you consider beautiful?” he asked.

Her brow furrowed in deep contemplation. “Perhaps the question is too broad to begin with,” she said at last. “There are many aspects of beauty. It could be physical attractiveness of a person. Or the aesthetics of a piece or art or music. Or a view in nature.”

“You have acknowledged one of the conundrums I was experiencing. How can the same word—beauty—be attributed to such varied subjects? I will specify for you: what is a piece of music that you would classify as beautiful?”

She thought for a moment. “La Mer, by Claude Debussy.”

“I am accessing the data now.”

“No, wait!” She hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh. He looked confused and maybe a bit wounded. “I’m sorry, but you can’t just download beauty. Maybe that’s where you’ve been going wrong.”

She swam to the steps and began to get out of the pool.

“Wait a minute,” she urged.

She retrieved her iPod, searched for the song, and plugged it into the speaker. “To fully appreciate it, you need to listen to it with your ears.” She noticed he had none. “Oh, well…you know what I mean.” That was awkward!

The rich, ambient piano rang out, echoing gloriously off the poolroom walls. Light reflected off the ripples of the water onto the ceiling. Melissa sighed in contentment, wrapped herself in a towel, and settled onto a chaise. The Vision regarded her keenly with those strange, alien eyes. She forced herself to break his gaze, close her eyes, and relax.

“Beauty should stir the soul,” she said.

“I am not sure I have a soul,” he admitted somewhat sadly. “It is another one of the abstract concepts with which I struggle.”

She opened her eyes. He was back to hovering motionless in the water. “We all struggle with such concepts,” she assured him. “You are not alone.” His face cheered somewhat at her words.

He rose silently from the pool, arms outstretched. Water streamed off his body as he slowly floated over to land by her side. She inhaled sharply with an involuntary shiver.

“Are you quite alright?” he asked.

“My soul just got stirred.” It came out more brazenly than she had meant, but she was secretly proud of herself. Despite her background and expertise, she had not felt anything close to self-confident with these superhumans. And she had to hand it to the man (or whatever he was), he _was_ beautiful.

He smiled at her, clearly comprehending the compliment. “You find me to be beautiful.”

Melissa nodded nervously, then forced herself to remember that this was meant to be an educational experience for an android-based lifeform. She composed herself. “Yes.”

“What about me do you find aesthetically pleasing?”

She paused thoughtfully before answering. He sat down beside her and waited patiently. “You are extremely graceful in your movements,” she began. “Your physique is long-limbed and perfectly chiseled. Your eyes and skin—though not of a human palette—are aesthetically pleasing colors to me. And your facial features are…even, pleasantly sharp, and masculine.”

He smiled again. “You are an excellent observer and provide well-thought out descriptions. I am confident that I can continue to learn from you. I look forward to continuing our discussions if that would be satisfactory to you.” She nodded and forced a smile back.

He got up and turned to leave the poolroom. Before the door he turned back.

“And thank you for the compliment on my appearance.”

***

Melissa sat in her small quarters, reading a book on her bed. The door chime sounded.

“Come in.”

The door slid open to reveal The Vision. “Would this be an appropriate time to continue our discussions?”

She smiled and invited him in. He noticed the book. “What are you reading?”

“It’s an autobiography of someone with Asperger’s Syndrome. You should read it.”

He looked questioningly at her.

She explained, “You share many characteristics with someone with an autistic spectrum disorder, if you don’t mind me saying.”

There was a brief pause as he analyzed information on the subject. “I do not mind at all,” he said. “I can understand the comparison.”

She laughed lightly. “So what do you want to talk about this evening?”

“I am eager to learn more about beauty and how different people place different values on certain aspects of aesthetics. In short, why is one thing beautiful to one person and not to another?”

She considered the question. “I suppose that although some aspects of, for instance human physicality, are universally attractive due to evolutionary psychology, our own experiences throughout life of who we find emotionally attractive or stimulating also informs our own opinions.”

“This makes sense,” he admitted. “Except,” he added, “It is my assumption that you have no past experiences that would inform your opinion of my attractiveness beyond my few universally accepted human attributes.”

Was it her mistake or was there a touch of sarcasm in his voice?

“Touché.” She smiled, and he returned the smile.

He posed a new question: “The other members of the Avengers and many of the SHIELD agents portray a certain amount of physical perfection and human beauty. Am I wrong?”

“Why do you think I only swim in the pool alone?” she quipped. He cocked his head but was quiet. “Yes, most are undeniably beautiful and attractive people.”

“Do they stir your soul?”

“No.” It came out as a whisper.

“Am I sexually desirable to you? Perhaps this is the difference.”

She colored instantly and looked away.

“You are blushing,” he observed. She managed a nod. “I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

She took a deep breath and regained her composure. Tried to remind herself that he meant nothing, was only ‘born’ a short time ago.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I guess I just wasn’t prepared for that. It’s a logical question…to which the answer is yes.” She forced herself to meet his eyes again. “But I’m sure there is something more to beauty and attraction than just sex drive.”

My God, where was this going? She decided to change the focus of the conversation. “Do you feel emotions?” she asked.

“Yes, although I admit that I have limited understanding of them as of yet. And I am uncertain of their intensity and boundary. More often than not they are overridden by logic.” He looked away this time. “Indeed I am, in those respects, quite like those diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome as you have implied.”

“But you want to explore those human emotions?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Many of the team members and agents distrust me, perhaps due to my machine origins. It is my hope that by furthering my understanding of humanity and improving upon my own human nature that they will better accept me.”

She felt sad for him, but resisted the impulse to reach out and touch him.

“What are the emotions you associate with that?” It was a strange way to phrase ‘how do you feel about that?’ but she figured it would be a better fit to his emotional naiveté.

“I think…loneliness.”

There was a comfortable silence between them.

“I think I understand a bit how you feel,” she allowed. “I have felt like an outcast among these militant superhumans since I set foot in this place. But I am glad now that I made a friend.”

He looked up gratefully at her.

“And now I feel happy,” he noted.

***

Their discourse on philosophical matters and human emotion continued sporadically over the next week or so. Work became busy for both, and their times together were brief. Yet they managed to delve deeply into the subjects he questioned her about. There were no further awkward moments regarding her attraction to him, and she was glad of it.

Still, there was some growing suspicion from the team members. The more observant noticed that Melissa and The Vision were likely to be in each other’s company when not busy with protecting the free world.

Natasha was the first to approach Melissa on the subject. “What’s going on between you and Vision?”

Melissa consistently felt unnerved by the woman. Natasha was brazen, confident, the epitome of beauty and sex appeal, and deadly. Melissa was highly jealous and scared at the same time whenever she was near.

“What do you mean?” she stammered.

Natasha looked askance at her. “You spend an awful lot of time together.”

Melissa was aware that this woman was one of those who mistrusted The Vision’s motives and judgment. “I am teaching him more about human behavior,” she replied.

Natasha raised her eyebrow in suspicion. “Why?” Her voice was curt and accusatory.

Melissa’s anger broke through her fear and insecurity. “Because he knows you and the others mistrust him. You ostracize him. He wants to fit in and actually be part of the team.”

Natasha was clearly taken aback, but she accepted Melissa’s words. She stepped back, narrowed her eyes. “Wow! You didn’t have to go and get all serious on me, Doctor. I was just going to comment on how he follows you around like a little puppy.” Now it was Melissa’s turn to be taken aback. “It’s kinda cute, actually…in a demented sort of way.”

***

“You are aware of the role of oxytocin in early childhood physical and emotional development?”

They had been strolling through the woods surrounding SHIELD headquarters. It was a pleasantly warm autumn day, and they were discussing human emotional development, and Vision’s potential for his own growth and learning. He was becoming steadily more self-aware, and his social skills were noticeably improved. A few team members congratulated her on her work with him. It was like lessons in some ways, but more than that it _was_ friendship. Or the closest thing she had to that here.

“The hormone is stimulated by physical contact, particularly by parental figures,” Vision acknowledged.

“That’s right. Humans cannot successfully develop without close physical contact; in fact, they can even die.”

“Does this need for physical contact end after maturity?”

“No,” she admitted, “But it is therefore not critical for development. But touch—well, affectionate touch—continues to activate oxytocin, thereby decreasing stress and increasing happiness. And we engage in contact with others to communicate our affection for them.”

They walked on a bit more, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of an October afternoon. She had been encouraging him to open himself more to his senses in order to better understand aesthetics and emotion. There was no way for computerized data to impact that kind of knowledge. He relished the experiences and was naturally curious and patient.

“Do you hold no affection for me?”

The question stunned her, disrupted her academic train of thought. She had no idea what to say.

He continued, “We have been friends for eighty-nine days, yet you have never touched me.”

She stammered a bit, trying to think of an instance when she had, or an excuse as to why she hadn’t. But it was true. She was not a typically touchy or demonstrative person, but she had to admit that she had studiously avoided any physical contact with him. He regarded her with interest, waiting for her response.

She nodded. “You’re right…of course, you are. But,” Here she hesitated more, tried to choose her words carefully. But then it all fell apart. “It’s not because I don’t like you. I think I’m just…I’m confused…or something.”

Melissa could not meet his eyes. Her stomach was in knots, and a sudden thought engulfed her mind like a tidal wave: My God, I do like him: _like_ , like! Of course she had always acknowledged that he was physically attractive, but after the initial few conversations she had learned to put that to the side. He was too alien and too perfect. She felt a fool for even considering herself attracted to him. And she rejected the idea of more than that entirely. It was an impossibility. So she had buried her desire, her feelings for him, and had adopted the role of professional mentor.

But the relationship was more than professional, more than teacher-student. She greatly enjoyed her discussions with him, looked forward to meeting with him. And she was distracted and a bit lonely when he was away from headquarters.

Melissa looked up, realizing it had been quite some time since she had last spoken. He continued to stare intently at her. He is so perfect, she thought.

He reached out to her then, placed his hand on her shoulder gently but firmly. She let her instincts take over then. She stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around his strong back. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and he folded his arms around her. Melissa sighed in contentment, closed her eyes, and relaxed into his embrace.

“You are pleased?” he asked at last.

She sighed again and gave him a squeeze. “Yeah,” she breathed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good hug.” She thought about it for a moment. “That being said, Vision, you could relax a bit. I’m not made of glass.”

He attempted to reposition his arms to satisfy her, but he remained stiff. They exchanged a few awkward comments about it, but he still wasn’t getting it.

“This is my first experience with affectionate touch. My only history of touch with humans has been either aggressive or merely practical. Like the swimming, it is an issue of kinesthetic learning. I apologize for being unsatisfactory.”

She suppressed a grin at this last word: her mind was wandering.

“Perhaps with practice and guidance I will become more adept,” he added.

Her eyebrow raised involuntarily as she continued to weigh the possibilities. Stop it, Melissa, she scolded herself. Enough with the dirty-minded digressions. She took a deep breath and looked up at him.

“You can practice on me anytime.” Really? Did she just say that? Jesus, she was ridiculous! She felt like she was nineteen again, flirting with boys at a campus party.

He pulled her to him again, trying to hone his technique.

***

They decided to reconvene later in her quarters to work on the ‘affectionate touch’ as he referred to it. Melissa prompted him to be secretive about this, fearing he would out the cuddling lessons to the SHIELD team. She already felt like a dirty old woman (old? she was thirty-one!), and the secrecy somehow made things worse. Here he was, practically a child in emotional terms, and she was eagerly encouraging his curiosity about amorous physicality. She was pulled in two different directions. Was she taking advantage of this Adonis-like man-child, or was this the natural progression of a relationship? The more comfortable she felt in his arms the more uncomfortable the thoughts in her head.

And how aware of this all was he? He was naïve, but certainly he must have some knowledge base with his omniscience that would indicate her intentions. Did he know this was more than lessons? Did he understand the path she was only semi-consciously leading them down?

They lay on her bed, her head on his chest. She allowed her fingers to trace delicately along his stomach. Suddenly she stopped herself.

“Vision. Is this even worth it for you?” She looked up at him. “I mean, I’ve been feeling really strange about all this.”

“Strange?” he asked.

She broke the embrace, sat up, and turned to him. “Yeah. I mean…why are we doing this? Or, I guess I have my reasons…my own very human, selfish reasons. But why are you?”

“Are your reasons connected to your sexual attraction to me?”

She blushed and looked away, was silent. He considered her reaction for moment, interpreted it. “Are you concerned that I am incapable of the same feelings in regard to you?”

She thought for a moment and nodded, made herself return his gaze.

He continued. “I must admit that this is a difficult question considering my limited experience with emotions and physicality. I also do not possess the same biological imperative to procreate, which is the basis for human sexuality.”

She widened her eyes at that. Sometimes it was all she could do to suppress a schoolgirl giggle at his matter-of-fact statements regarding sex. For years she had gotten frustrated with students who made crude jokes or snickered whenever she had lectured about some aspect of sex. Now she identified with them.

“Do you feel any…anything when I’m near you?” she asked. She wasn’t sure if she meant emotionally or physically. Probably both.

“I do,” he admitted. “And I desire to be near you. To touch you.”

A flutter in her stomach. What was it about this man—no, he wasn’t even a man in the conventional sense—that made her regress so? She had been in a fair variety of relationships, lived with someone once, even a one night stand. She was experienced and even a little jaded. But The Vision caused a whole jumble of emotion and desire.

“I understand your skepticism due to my non-human status. But I can assure you that I enjoy your company over that of others. And I do not crave physical contact from anyone else.”

She finally lost it at that point. The girlish giggles at last escaped her. At least she suppressed the sudden urge to sing stupid pop songs. She apologized in between fits of laughter and saw that he was smiling at her. She was sure he was confused at her outburst, but she didn’t want to try to explain it. Besides she was getting tired of explaining everything.

When the laughter subsided, he pulled her to him. He ran his fingers lightly up her spine and she shivered.

“Was that done incorrectly?” he asked.

“No, that was perfect,” she assured him.

He repeated the motion. And she peered up at him with a sly smile. “It’s wonderful,” she said, “but I think maybe the key to this whole thing is improvisation. Try different things, and observe for a positive reaction.”

With this prompt he began to explore the contours of her back with the tips of his long fingers. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. If she was a cat she would have purred.

He pressed himself up onto his side, gently pushing her onto her back. She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her with those strange, pale, penetrating eyes. He placed his hand on her throat then softly guided his hand down her chest, over a breast—the sensitive nipple hardening immediately—down her ribs, and to her hip. Melissa had never felt so much desire in her life. He repeated the motion, this time beginning along her jawline, down her arm, tickling her wrist, trailing onto her fingers.

She laced her fingers through his and brought his hand to her lips. She turned the hand over, studying its rich, garnet color, its smoothness, and kissed his palm. He closed his eyes.

“Do that again,” he said.

She kissed him once more.

He opened his eyes, leaned over, and kissed her on the lips.

It wasn’t a bad kiss, exactly, but it was not what she would have hoped for. He had managed, thanks to the input from her own kiss to his hand, to nearly copy the movement, the pressure, the timing. It was chaste, passionless, mechanical.

Oh shit, she thought. He better catch on at least as fast as he did with the swimming!

He tried again, but the same.

Melissa put her hand to his lips to stop him. He was aware that something was missing, that he was doing something wrong. She said nothing, just looked reassuringly at him. She pressed him back and began kissing him lightly. She started with his wrist and moved up his arm. She varied the pressure and the length of each kiss, knowing he would register the variations. When she got to his neck, she flicked her tongue along his throat, ran the tip of her tongue along his jawline. She swung her leg over his hips and sat astride him. He looked intently at her: was it desire? He placed his hands on her hips. She kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the gem in the center of his forehead.

The Mindstone. Melissa felt something from the stone; she didn’t know what. But when she kissed it his fingers flexed into her hips. He clearly felt something as well. She kissed it again, this time letting her lips linger. He moved his hands up to the small of her back, edging up under her blouse. It was almost a vibration she felt in the stone, but also something more. Something shared and indescribable. She pulled back and looked into his pale eyes.

“What was that?”

He relaxed his hands somewhat. “I do not know,” he admitted. “But when you did that it made me better understand.”

She looked questioningly at him. He said nothing but moved her back onto the bed, leaned over her. He kissed her neck, then arched his head up her throat, running the Mindstone along her skin. She shivered and looped a leg over his. They looked at each other: yeah, this was going to work after all. A sly smile formed on her lips. He pressed his mouth to hers, slowly increasing the pressure, letting the kiss grow more intense.

He was learning.

***

Unfortunately, some of the others noted that the teacher/student relationship had gotten a bit muddled. Melissa sat alone in the mess hall (Vision, of course, never ate), eating her salad when Natasha plunked her tray down across from her, sat down, and began the interrogation.

“So how’s the lessons going?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Melissa had become a bit more used to the woman, was slightly less intimidated, but the assassin could still be unnerving in the least. She chose to look blankly back at her.

“C’mon, girl,” Natasha coaxed, “You know I’m going to get the information out of you. I’ve been trained for this stuff.” It was a joke, but kind of a scary joke. “Anyway, I need to live vicariously through someone since Bruce is AWOL.” A sadness flickered in her eyes despite her sardonic tone. Melissa allowed empathy to show in her eyes, and Natasha looked away, regained her cool.

Steve Rogers walked up to the table. “What are you two lovely ladies talking about?”

“The doc and Vision,” Natasha answered. Steve raised his eyebrows. “Come join us. We lonely hearts could use the gossip, right?” Steve smiled and sat down. Melissa rolled her eyes.

“Absolutely,” he said.

Natasha lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “You two are always together. You look at him with, well, something. There is definite sexual tension.” Steve nodded.

Melissa heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what it is, you know. I guess it’s something. But I have to admit that I don’t really know how much he understands or…feels. It’s hard to know. He isn’t… human.” The two Avengers nodded and shrugged.

“Listen, Melissa, speaking as someone who is currently pining for someone who is not completely human himself, I can vouch that they’re sometimes better than regular men—no offense, Steve.” Steve shrugged it off and admitted that he didn’t exactly fit the bill as a ‘regular man’.

“It’s just very different, you know?” said Melissa. “I don’t want to be fooling myself—or him for that matter—and think this something it isn’t or can’t be.”

Steve put down his sandwich and leaned forward. “Is he good to you?” She nodded. “Are you happy?” She thought a second and nodded again. “Then my advice is to go for it. I didn’t. Don’t make that mistake.”

Melissa smiled warmly at him. These strange superhumans were, in fact, her friends, and she was glad. As embarrassed as she had been when first approached about all this, she realized she was finally a part of the group, no longer an outsider.

***

Melissa was alone in her quarters when the door chimed. When she opened it, The Vision, stepped toward her without a word, gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. He was more forceful, passionate than previously. Her lips parted and he touched the tip of his tongue to hers. She moaned unconsciously and let her hand slide down his back to his perfectly sculpted buttock.

It was only a minute, but it felt like an eternity. A beautiful, sensuous eternity. They broke the kiss and he closed his eyes, leaned the Mindstone against her forehead. Again that slight thrum between them. He stood up straight, looked her in the eyes and smiled.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Someone’s been studying.”

“I have,” he stated simply. She looked askance at him, and he opened his mouth to explain. She stopped him.

“Close the door.” She beckoned him toward the bed.

He stalked toward her, hunger burning in his eyes. It was a look she had not seen from him before. She lay back and he leaned over her, tangled his hands in her hair, began kissing her neck, tasting her. She bit her lip hard, nearly drawing blood.

“I have been analyzing visual data from movies and television to enhance my skills,” Vision murmured into her neck.

“Good idea,” she panted.

“Erotica has been particularly helpful,” he added. She raked her fingers down his back.

“Oh, has it?” She pulled his head up so she could give him a sly look.

“Yes. Tony suggested that it would be much more appealing to women than conventional pornography.”

Her eyes widened in horror, and she let out a moan that was not pleasure. “Tony?! You talked to Tony Stark about this?”

Vision was clearly confused and looked hurt at her reaction. “Yes. It is my understanding that he has had a reputation of being quite the lothario. I thought he could help.”

“Oh, Vision. How could you? He has to be the least discrete man I have ever met! He’ll be talking to everyone about this!” She groaned again.

“I’m sorry. I merely sought advice. I did not understand.” He sounded so wounded.

She pulled him to her gently and cradled his head against her shoulder. “It’s okay. What’s done is done. And I have to admit it was some damn good advice.” She gave the Mindstone a sweet kiss.

He looked up at her. “Am I not to talk to anyone about our relationship?” She tensed slightly at the word. Was this what it was? “You told me that Natasha and Steve had already spoken with you about us. I assumed this meant that you were comfortable with people knowing of our interactions.”

He was so sweet and innocent sometimes. Which was a complete turnaround from a few minutes ago. Her head spun. Back to explaining everything.

“Yes, well, I guess,” she said. “But you have to be a bit more…decorous about what you talk to people about. I mean, most people should not know about you watching porn or whatever.” He nodded his understanding. “And, what are we telling people anyway? About us, I mean.”

She suddenly felt a bit panicked, sat up and backed away a bit. “If this isn’t anything more than you practicing your erotica skills, then I think we shouldn’t talk to people about it.” He cocked his head at her. “Is it? Is it more? I know you have said that you want to be near me and all that, but…what do you see in me anyway? Am I just a friend and a teacher? You’re so bizarrely perfect, and I’m just so…normal.”

He took her hand, placed the palm on the Mindstone, let the calming energy transfer to her. “Perhaps that is what I want, someone who is, as you say, normal.” He released her hand and she guided it down his cheek. “I am new to all of this. I do not understand what I want, what we are, what to do. I am not perfect. I make these mistakes. I cannot enjoy a romantic dinner with you. I cannot have children.” He registered the returning discomfort in her. “You see, even now, I make errors that I do not comprehend.”

“Come here.” She held her arms out to him, and they held each other. “Just promise me one thing: don’t just act, be genuine. I don’t want you doing a play by play of a movie to try to get it right. I’ll know, somehow, if you are being more…” she couldn’t think of the word.

“Robotic?” he suggested, his voice terse. “I am not just a computer.”

“I know.” She kissed him.

***

Melissa woke up in his arms. She hadn’t realized that she had dozed off and had no idea what time it was. Her arm tickled. Vision was slowly running his fingers along just the tips of the fine hairs on her forearm, examining the subtle texture, relishing the new tactile experience. He did things like that sometimes, learning through all his senses instead of taking the minute details for granted as humans usually did. It always aroused her.

She began kissing his shoulder, his chest. Moved up the chord of his neck. Nibbled gently along his jaw. Kissed his temple. Their eyes met briefly before they locked in an intense kiss, their mouths exploring each other. When at last the kiss broke, she traced all the lines of his face with her fingertips. He watched her intently.

“Will you take your clothes off?” he asked. She smiled a soft, crooked smile. Sat up.

“You do it,” she said.

He reached out and began to slowly unbutton her blouse. Pushed it back off her shoulders. She had the sudden suspicion that he would then fold it, so she hastily pulled it from his hands and flung it across the room. He smiled and she laughed.

He regarded her bra curiously, so she turned around. He was then able to discern the clasps and—far more deftly than even the most experienced man—undid them. He followed her lead, and she saw it go flying into the corner of the room. They both laughed this time.

She turned around and he observed her breasts for the first time. She could see him taking in every detail, first with his eyes, then gently reaching out and stroking them.

His hands moved down the curves of her waist, unfastened the button on the front of her pants, moved the zipper down. She lay back and wriggled out of them, shucking off her panties in the process. Still the calm, curious expression on his face, his eyes taking in every curve, every freckle.

“You are beautiful,” he said, and she knew he meant it.

“Your turn,” she said playfully. He cocked his head, then realized what she meant. The ‘clothes’ peeled back liquidly from his body, swiftly dissolving, revealing the sculpted ruby flesh. She was relieved to see that all was intact, that he was indeed a man.

She pulled him down beside her, kissed him deeply, then began to touch his body. The skin was smooth, hairless, unblemished: inhuman, but not unpleasant. Pewter-colored geometrics broke up the red, accentuating his physique. He was perfection.

Vision watched her intently, but it was hard to tell what he felt physically or emotionally. His body was different, of course, from any she had ever encountered. He remained flaccid and she had to remind herself to not take it personally. He was, as she remembered, not motivated by the same animal desires as normal men. He noticed her glance at his sex, realized the mistake, and rectified it without comment. She raised an eyebrow and suppressed a chuckle.

“That’s better,” she noted with a smile, and caressed him.

“Teach me,” he said.

She sat astride him, guided him inside her. She gasped with pleasure. He watched her with fascination as she began to move her hips. After a minute he pulled her head down, touching the Mindstone to her forehead. The position was awkward, but after a moment he broke the connection, deftly flipped her onto her back (how was it that all of his movements were so graceful?) and began to move his own narrow hips slowly and smoothly against her. The Mindstone was the key to so much of his understanding of these basic human drives and emotions; she was eternally grateful for it. She closed her eyes and wrapped her legs around his waist, gave herself over completely to him.

He was untiring as he thrust into her over and over. She raked at his back and moaned, inching closer and closer to climax. He shifted position then, pulled her up to sit high on his lap. She arched her back, but he pulled her back toward him, pulled her head to his, and touched the Mindstone to her. He let out a soft moan of pleasure. They continued their lovemaking, connected by the gem. She could feel his pleasure through the stone, intensifying her own sensations. She shuddered and cried out, her body aching to arch back, but he held her head to his firmly as he himself gasped in ecstasy.

As her body relaxed, he at last released her, lay her down gently on the bed.

“That was the most extraordinary thing I have experienced since my creation.”

“Me too,” she agreed.

***

The door chimed. There was a brief rush of hope, but when she opened it, it was only Natasha. Melissa composed herself and invited the woman in. Natasha, though more friendly to her now, had never visited her in her quarters. She offered her some tea, which was refused, and gestured to the armchair. Natasha sat stiffly.

“You heard anything from The Vision?”

Melissa sat on the bed across from her, shook her head. He had been gone nearly three weeks. It had been so hard to say goodbye to him. He had little idea of where he was going or for how long. All she knew was that he was going off to search for the Hulk, who had been missing for over a year. Hell, Vision could be gone for years himself, though he had seemed confident enough in his ability to trace him.

“Not at all?”

“No. Why would he? He's on a mission. He's probably too focused on it. It wouldn't occur to him that the polite thing, the considerate thing would be to check in.” It was the truth, one of the aspects of his nature that she accepted. So why did she sound so wounded about it? She'd been pouting and moping around headquarters, wrapped in a shroud of sadness and longing. Amazing how this man—this being—continued to elicit these adolescent feelings. Stupid emotions.

“What is it about these men of ours?” There was a tinge of sadness carefully hidden by the wry tone. Melissa, always the keen observer of emotions, recognized it but said nothing. “As soon they realize they're in love with us they leave us."

Melissa looked up at this, the surprise and skepticism plain on her face.

“You didn't know?” Natasha asked. Melissa shook her head slowly, still disbelieving. “He didn't tell you he’s in love with you?”

“No?” It was a whisper.

“That's why he left,” Natasha continued. “He came to me that day, the day he left. He said something corny about how because of you he now understands what love is, and how important it is...” the sarcasm dropped from her voice at this point,”...how important it is for me to find Bruce.” Her eyes reddened, but she allowed no tears.

Melissa on the other hand was not able to contain herself as much. She could feel a million emotions wash over her face and body. Confused as to what to do, what to say, she arose and began pacing across the floor. Natasha watcher her, amused.

“He actually said that? He, he…really? He used the L word?” She stopped her pacing when Natasha began to laugh loudly at her. “Oh my God, I sound like an idiot! What’s wrong with me? I have a damned PhD from Harvard, and I’m stammering like a…like a…”

“Like a woman in love?” Natasha suggested. Melissa beamed. “C’mon, girl, let’s go get a drink. I think we both could use it.”

***

It had been an awkward conversation—talking to Nick Fury was always intimidating—but she had needed a change. She never mentioned the Vision, her relationship, her feelings of loss. She merely presented the facts: Harvard had been uneasy at best in the first place with allowing her so much time off, with suspicions that her post with SHIELD would become a permanent one. Also she missed teaching desperately (not the sort of lessons she had given Vision, but _real_ teaching). And at the moment her skills were not heavily needed by SHIELD.

So Fury had granted her request to return to Cambridge for the six weeks around Christmas. She would conduct a two-week intensive seminar on Criminality in Personality Disorders. Fury had even give her permission to use some case studies from SHIELD.

She was happy to be home for the holidays, closer to family and friends. Amongst the hustle and bustle of the shops in Harvard Square. Able to cook for herself again (her SHIELD quarters were little more than a hotel room). But something didn’t feel quite right.

Her apartment felt too large—something she had never complained of before—and there was, despite more social interaction and activity, a pervasive feeling of loneliness. Sure, she enjoyed Christmas with her parents and her sister’s family. But at her friends’ New Year’s party she felt she was going through the motions. She was glad when the seminar began; it kept her busy, especially since she had decided on it at the last minute and done so little to prepare. When not with friends or family over those weeks, she was attached to her computer furiously preparing her lectures.

A frigid Thursday in January, her first week of lecture nearly complete. Melissa was exhausted. Fat snowflakes whirled about her as she hurried down her street from the bus stop. Out of the wind at last. She looked gratefully up at the third floor walkup and stomped her snow laden boots on the mat inside the front porch. The ancient bulb at the top of the stairs let out a weak warm light. She trudged up and stopped short.

Standing there outside her door was the Vision. She stumbled on the last step, dropped her briefcase, forgot to breathe.

“Hello, Melissa.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but realized nothing was coming out. He opened his arms, and she stepped to him, crushed herself against him. The tears began, warm on her freezing cheeks and his chest. He pushed her back slightly--she refused to let go of him—and lifted her chin.

“These are happy tears?” he asked. She managed a nod.

“I missed you…you have no idea how much I missed you.”

He smiled and kissed her, laid the Mindstone on her forehead as he had so often done months ago. Again the connection, the thrum of physical and emotional pleasure. He released the connection and looked down fondly at her.

“You are cold,” he observed and looked toward the door.

She smiled and released him long enough to remove her gloves, fish out her keys, and open the door. She had forgotten she was freezing, didn’t feel it. She didn’t even remember being dog-tired. As soon as the door was safely shut and she had shucked off her coat and boots, she threw herself into his arms again. She jumped up, wrapped her legs around his waist, and kissed him long and hard.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she scolded teasingly. He cocked his head at her. “Leave me like that. I mean, I know you’ll have to leave again sometimes…to save the world and all that.” She kissed him again. “But, not like that again. Not for so long. Never calling or anything.”

“I am sorry. I did not understand.”

She smiled sweetly at the look of regret and shame on his face. “I forgive you…this time,” she teased. She unwrapped her legs from him and pulled him to the sofa. She pushed him down, settled onto his lap, kissed him deeply. “I love you.”

He smiled at her in his arms, stroked the melting snowflakes from her hair. “And I love you,” he stated simply.

She looked askance at him and grinned. “Sure?”

“Yes. There is vast data upon the subject of love--fiction, film, song lyrics, scientific text, and philosophy—and I have conducted an exhaustive review and analysis. Although the topic of romantic love is abstract and subjective, there seems to be much more congruence than in other abstract concepts.”

She raised her eyebrow at this. “So romantic. I do hope that your loving me is not just a conclusion based on data analysis.”

“No,” he assured her. “I do love you. I…feel it.” She buried her face into his neck and squeezed him tightly. “It is a very complex emotion and very difficult to explain in a cohesive manner. All the data in the world could not possibly inform me completely on the feeling. I am eternally grateful that my experience with you has taught me this lesson.”


End file.
